Page 72 of Taking Jenny
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Underdogs,” she said. “That’s what we call them on Earth. Someone that everyone believes has little chance of winning.”
“Strange name, but yes, those were always my favorite stories. The ones where the unlikely survive.”
She hesitated for a moment, digesting what I’d just told her. Then, a glimmer of hope entered her eyes. “So you think I’m like Eritrolla? That I’ll win Illiapol?”
“I believe you can,” I said, meaning it.
She stared out toward the orchard, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s nice to hear that.”
“You doubt yourself?” I could hear it in her voice, and a part of me felt responsible for my role in making her feel that way because of the things I’d said to her last night in the lab. None of them true.
“I don’t know what to think,” she said, sounding a bit depressed. “Not about anything. Not anymore.”
I took another drink of the whickler, then passed the bottle to her. Our fingers brushed, and heat and awareness flared between us in that single touch.
“What do you think about me?” I dared to ask.
She laughed, the sound diminishing any last remnants of her anger toward me. “You had to make my existential panic about you?”
I leaned in, voice low and teasing. “I’ve been told I’m a good distraction.”
“You’re arrogant,” she said, then her tone softened. “Handsome. Brooding. Sexy. Troubled…but not without cause. And cute, when you’re not trying to be.”
I grinned at her. “You may be the first person to call me cute.”
“Well, you are.” Her smile lingered longer this time. “What do you think about me? Besides comparing me to your mythic hero.”
“Need there be more?”
She playfully knocked her hip into mine. “Come on. I told you.”
“I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth,” I said, setting the bottle of whickler on a nearby table then turning toward her. “And it thrills me.”
She went quiet, her gaze fixed on mine.
“I think you’re the most beautiful—and fiercest—woman I’ve ever seen,” I said honestly.
A small frown furrowed her brows. “But…I’mjust a human.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, Jenny.” Slowly, I reached for her cheek, giving her the chance to pull away. She didn’t. My fingers brushed her skin, and in that moment it was as though a perilous gap was bridged. “What I meant was Longshot should have been more careful with you. You don’t heal like we do. That’s all. I wasn’t implying any weakness. You’re not lacking anything. You’re…amazing.”
She stepped in closer, and I let my hand slide from her cheek down to the curve of her neck. Her hands landed on my chest, fingers splaying over the fabric of my shirt as she looked up at me.
“Every time I feel like I’m starting to understand you,” she whispered, “something goes badly between us.”
I smiled faintly. “I know what you mean.”
She exhaled a soft breath. “So, for right now—for this moment—I want to pretend there’s nothing but you and me.”
“I want that too.”
She curled her fingers between the buttons of my shirt and tugged me down to her mouth. Her lips brushed mine, soft andflavored with whickler. After a moment, she broke away, her breath catching, eyes wide as she waited for me to close the gap.
Fearful she might change her mind, I didn’t hesitate. I crashed back into her, kissing her deep and hard. She gasped against my mouth, her back arching into the railing as I pressed her there. There was no space left between us—no patience, no hesitation. Just want and need.Just her.
Her moan vibrated against my lips. My fingers slid into her hair, then down to cradle the nape of her neck. Her hands slipped beneath my jacket, feeling all over my chest like she was memorizing my muscles or trying to find bare skin beneath my shirt. If she managed to put her hands on me like that, I’d be lost.
